'Are you comfortable? Is the refreshment to your liking?'
They had found clothes for their blonde guest, a white lace dress with voluminous sleeves and a pair of flat leather shoes that looked comfortable. Nilla leaned back on her divan and lifted her snifter in silent toast. It could have been tomato juice in the glass but Ayaan doubted it. The green phantom bowed deeply, leaning on his femur staff, and moved back to one corner of the room. On her own stool Ayaan crossed her legs and wondered how long this was going to take.
They were all gathered inside of MAD-O-RAMA, where the Tsarevich was due to make an appearance at any moment. Erasmus stood behind Ayaan in a stiff posture, forced to be uncomfortable because he had failed. He was going to have to apologize. Semyon Iurevich perched on a three-legged chair near the back, his eyes very wide as if he expected to witness something monumental and didn't want to blink in case he missed it. The fiftieth mummy stood holding the brain in the jar. Nilla made a point of not looking at it. Cicatrix was with her master, the two of them hidden inside his pretzel car throne which was still turned to the wall.
Without preamble the Tsarevich's image appeared in the center of the room, facing them. He bowed deeply in Nilla's direction and spoke in fractured English'the only language Nilla had. 'My lady. What honor you give me. I have sought you for years now, to only glory you. How kind of you this is to come. May I introduce myself, I am Adrik Pavlovich Padchenko, who some too kindly call Tsarevich.'
'Enchanted to meet you,' Nilla replied. She looked sincere enough. 'I'm nobody.'
The boy lich smiled broadly as if she'd said the most intelligent thing he'd ever heard. Then he turned and faced his generals. 'With this nobody and her gracious presence, we are made ready. Most of you know what means this. We have worked so long, so hard. Tomorrow we begin!' With the exception of Ayaan, the mummy and the brain, the entire room cheered.
'There is perhaps one, though, who knows not why we celebrate today.' The image came to take Ayaan's chin in both of his small, pale hands. She gave him her best smile though she wanted to knock him away from her. 'Why, she does not know real me at all.' That elicited a few chuckles.
'My story is starting in tragedy,' he told her, walking toward the throne that hid his true body. 'Is starting with being hit by car, at tender age of nine years old. Many thought I would die. I did, yet not in right away.' More laughs.
The story he told her then was either heart-wrenching or blood-curdling, Ayaan couldn't decide which. The boy who would become the lich had been a child of moderate accomplishment'good grades, a promising future full of higher education and the chance to really make something of himself. Then came the accident. The car had nearly flattened him against a concrete wall. Most of his tiny bones had been broken, many of his organs ruptured or crushed. He was brought immediately to a hospital where it was discovered he could not breathe on his own and his heart was barely moving. After dozens of surgeries over the course of two weeks he was eventually stabilized'alive, but unable to regain consciousness.